


Across the Continents

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, a vampireAU, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Best friends for seven years, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons are torn apart by the Contagion that rips through Europe, a disease which replicates symptoms similar to vampirism. </p><p>Twelve years later, they reconnect in a bar and decide to make up for lost time. Fitz has a secret though, one he's not too keen on sharing with her, until he has no choice. </p><p>Turns out she has a secret of her own. </p><p>Prompt by amazingjemma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Continents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amazingjemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingjemma/gifts).



His best friend stands in front of him, fifteen years old and teary-eyed, watching as her parents load the last of their belongings into the car. 

“I don’t want to leave,” she whimpers, throwing her arms around his neck. He slowly brings his hands up to wrap around her. 

“You have to,” he mumbles into her hair. 

“What about you?” she sniffles, pulling back to look at him. 

“Jemma…” he breathes. He swallows down the lump in his throat and continues. “Mum and I, we’ll be okay. I promise.” 

“You have all the rations you need, right?” she asks worriedly. “And you’ve sealed up all the window, and—“ 

He laughs, a watery chuckle that expresses as much sadness as it does amusement. “Yes, Jemma. When this is all over, just—promise you’ll come back for me?” 

Jemma smacks him on the arm, a grin spreading over her face. “You know I will.” 

Her parents call for her to get in the car, and she winces before hugging him one last time. As she pulls away, she puts a lingering kiss on his cheek. Her eyes drink him in desperately, like she’s trying to memorize everything about him, and he’s sure that his look the same as he scans her face. 

On some strange and unexpected instinct, he surges forward and kisses her. It’s chaste and awkward, the kind of kiss that only a fifteen year old boy can give, but when he pulls back her eyes are shiny with something other than her tears so he smiles back at her and watches as she walks backward to her mum and dad’s van, eyes never leaving his. 

She slides open the door, turns around, and gives him one last, long look. “Goodbye, Fitz.” 

“Bye, Jemma.” 

He watches the van until he can’t see it anymore. Heaving a deep sigh, he walks back to his mother’s house a few streets away. Fitz takes one last, long breath of fresh air before he closes the door and fastens all eight locks that he’d installed since the Contagion began. 

*** 

[Twelve Years Later] 

“So, Fitz,” Skye slurs, leaning forward on her barstool and nearly toppling off of it. Fitz does his best to keep a straight face, because Drunk Skye gets quite testy if she thinks someone is making fun of her. “How come in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never had a girlfriend?” 

Fitz shrugs and takes a long swig of his beer. He’s known Skye for almost two years now, ever since he moved to New York. “Just never really been interested, I guess.” 

“Oh, c’mon!” Skye exclaims, slamming her hands down onto the surface of the bar. The man behind it gives her a little glare and Fitz grimaces apologetically. “That can’t be it. There has to be a juicy story in here somewhere, Leopold.” 

He groans at the use of his full name. He decides she probably won’t remember most of this anyway, so he decides to just go for it. After all of this time, maybe it’ll be nice to tell the story. “Alright, fine. D’you remember the Contagion?” 

Skye snorts sarcastically. “Oh, you mean that time that a virus went around that caused a large part of the population to become vampires? I almost forgot it.” 

Fitz just shakes his had. “Well, I was living in London at the time—“ 

“Oh shit, it was really bad there, wasn’t it?” 

Fitz nods. “Europe was hit really bad. I had this best friend, and we’d known each other since Mum and I moved from Scotland when I was eight. By the time we were thirteen, I was madly in love with her, but I obviously didn’t know what to do about it.” 

Skye’s face darkens. “No. Don’t tell me she—was she infected?” 

Fitz opens his mouth to deny it before he remembers, once again, that he doesn’t actually know the answer. “I’m not sure. Her family left London. They were headed to Germany, but a couple months later, Germany was hit with it, too, and by the time all the dust settled—“ 

“—almost all of the records were gone,” Skye sympathizes. She pats his arm and sighs. “That could have been one hell of a love story. But Fitz, it’s been what—twelve years now? Don’t you think it’s time to find someone else you could be madly in love with?” 

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and thinks about telling her the truth. She’s the closest friend he’s had since Jemma left London, and the only person he’s really been close to at all since his mum died. If he does choose to tell her, a noisy bar on a Friday night probably isn’t the time or place. 

“Soon,” Fitz shrugs. “I’m not in much a rush.” 

If only she knew how true it is, he thinks to himself. Skye begins to ramble about a girl at work that she thinks Fitz might like and he tunes her out. He’d meant it; he had been madly in love with Jemma Simmons, but she disappeared with all the other faceless and nameless people during the Contagion and there was no chance he’d ever see her again. Even if he did…that kind of relationship just couldn’t be an option for him. With his secrets, there’s no way in hell he’d ever consider dating. 

The thought washes over him in a wave of melancholy. He’s about to tell Skye that he wants to go home when he meets a familiar pair of eyes across the bar. 

“Jemma,” he breathes. 

“What?” Skye asks. “No, Fitz, I said her name is Caroline—“ 

“No, no,” he brushes her off. “Jemma.” 

Skye’s brow remains furrowed. “Are you having a stroke?” 

“Maybe,” he admits, blinking wide blue eyes at the woman standing near the dartboard. Her brown eyes are equally shocked, full lips open in a gasp of surprise. Skye follows his line of sight and lets out a whistle of approval. 

“Okay, forget Caroline. She’s gorgeous.” 

“She’s—she’s Jemma,” Fitz uselessly attempts to explain. Skye’s muddled brain takes a moment to catch up, but when it does her jaw drops open so wide that she nearly looks like a cartoon. 

“Wait, what?! Best friend chick?!” 

Fitz wordlessly nods and Skye practically shoves him off of his seat. 

“Holy shit, Fitz! Go talk to her, for God’s sake.” 

She’s already moving toward her, and he really doesn’t want to have this reunion in front of Skye, so he begins moving in her direction as well. She pushes through a group of drunk Wall Street types and lands directly in front of him. His mind goes completely blank as he tries to think of what to say to her, but he’s saved by her arms being thrown around him. 

“Fitz,” she sighs into his ear. His arms wrap tightly around her waist and he lifts her an inch or so off of the floor. She doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Jemma,” he says dumbly. “I can’t—I can’t believe it.” 

She pulls back from him as he puts her back down. “Neither can I. I just moved to New York two weeks ago, and my co-worker finally dragged me out of my apartment and here you are.” 

His eyes roam her face hungrily, drinking her in like a man deprived of water. “You look—you look amazing.” 

“So do you,” she beams. She pauses, looking around and then nodding resolutely. “Do you want to get out of here? It’s kind of loud and I just—I’d love to be able to actually speak to you.” 

“Yes!” he says, altogether too quickly. Jemma giggles lightly and touches his arm, sending an immediate tingling feeling up his arm. 

It’d been years since he felt something so powerfully. 

“I’m going to go let Bobbi know, and I’ll grab by coat.” 

“I’ve got to tell Skye,” he tells her, jerking his thumb toward the bar, where Skye eagerly watches them as she sucks down another cosmo. Something strange falls across Jemma’s face, but it’s been years since he’s been able to sense every microexpression on her face. 

“Oh. Yes. I’ll meet you outside?” 

He’s a bit confused in her change in behavior, but she’s still agreeing to leave with him, so he just nods and moves quickly before she can change her mind. 

“We’re going,” he quickly barks at Skye. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Be safe.” 

Skye bounces up and down on her seat. “Oh my God, this is amazing. You’re about to have the best sex of your life. Guaranteed. Hands down.” 

Fitz doesn’t even allow himself to linger on her words and instead pecks her quickly on the cheek and races for the door. He beats Jemma to the sidewalk, but she follows not long after. 

“Ready?” he asks, watching as she slips in to her black coat. It contrasts nicely with her emerald green top, and he’s surprised to see that he’s still taller than her even though she’s got heels on. When they were younger, they’d always been nearly the same height. 

“Yes,” she grins as they begin walking with no destination. “I hope this doesn’t come off strange, and if Skye would prefer you didn’t that’s perfectly alright, but I live right up the street—“ 

“Wait, Skye?” Fitz asks, head tilted in confusion. He stops in his tracks and she stops walking as well. 

Jemma looks at him like he’s the daftest man on Earth, an expression he’d seen her wear many times over their seven year friendship. “Well, yes. I imagine your girlfriend isn’t pleased that you’ve gone running off with some woman she’s not met—“ 

Fitz laughs so hard, he has to hold on to the lamppost beside him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just, Skye? My girlfriend? No. No. Absolutely—absolutely not.” 

He expects her eyes to narrow in suspicion, or for her to question him further the way that she always had when they’d talked about girls as teenagers, but instead she just smiles widely and steps forward to take his arm. 

“Lovely. Let’s go to my place, then.” 

She asks how long he’s lived in the city, and he tells her about moving here to work at an architecture firm. She tells him all about attending medical school in Boston and moving here to begin her residency in oncology. 

“Wow, oncology. That’s—some heavy stuff,” Fitz says as they reach her building. She scans her little card to allow them access and lets him pull open the front door. His mind briefly flashes to his mother, sick to death after chemotherapy. 

“It can be,” Jemma admits. “But sometimes it is just—the most uplifting. When you’re able to bring somebody back from the edge, allow them another chance at life—nothing beats that feeling. It’s the greatest high in the world.” 

“Jemma Simmons,” he grins. “I always knew you’d end up a doctor.” 

She blushes and presses the button for the 5th floor in the elevator. “It nearly didn’t happen, what with the Contagion and all.” 

“Where did you end up?” he asks. “I tried to find you, when it was all over.” 

“I tried to find you!” she exclaims, stepping into the hall and leading the way to her apartment. She opens the door and kicks off her heels as soon as they enter, blindly flicking on the light. There are still some unpacked boxes, but the apartment looks otherwise fairly lived-in for her having just moved in. “I went back to London, but there was no trace of you.” 

“Once the wave passed over London, we got on the first boat we could to America,” he explains. “We were living in Chicago for a long time.” 

Jemma sighs. “I wish I’d kept looking once I got here for college.” 

“Me too,” he agrees, squeezing her hand as they both drop onto her couch unceremoniously. “But somehow we still found each other.” 

He lets out a disbelieving laugh as he stares at her in the dim lighting of her living room. “I can’t—this doesn’t feel real.” 

“I know,” Jemma smiles, leaning into him. “Y’know, I promised myself, all those years ago, that if I ever saw you again…” 

He looks at her expectantly as she trails off. Her chest rises with a deep breath, temporarily distracting him. She leans forward quickly, capturing his lips with hers in a languid kiss. Fitz immediately melts into it, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her back into the couch. 

When they eventually come up for air, her eyes sparkle and a smile quirks up the ends of her swollen lips. “We’re better at that now.” 

Fitz blushes red when he thinks about his clumsy attempt at kissing her when they’d said goodbye in front of her house in London. “Alright, that was my first try!” 

“Mine too,” she beams, tugging him back down on top of her. “I know we have a lot of catching up to do, Fitz, but I’d rather not spend another seven years waiting for you to kiss me.” 

He knows this is when he should come clean to her, or at the very least, leave and keep her out of his mess. But she’s so warm underneath him, all tender touches and soft smiles and he can’t stop and he can’t leave and he can’t stand the thought of her asking him to, which he knows she will if she ever finds out the truth. 

“Neither do I. How about we—we don’t focus so much on catching up, okay?” 

She nods eagerly, leaning up to catch his mouth again. He swallows down the guilt and the words that want to pour out of him. 

He still doesn’t even know what he is. So how can he even begin to explain it to anyone else? 

*** 

[Six Months Later] 

“I can’t believe you’ve never made an omelette!” Jemma teases. Fitz raises his mug to his lips, watching her rustle through the fridge in nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of lacy knickers. It’s a view that’s been common to him in the last six months, but it never stops making his pulse race. 

“Never been much a cook,” he shrugs. She arranges a variety of items on the counter, placing an orange pepper on a cutting board and grabbing a knife. He watches her deftly begin chopping it. 

“I don’t know how you lived without me,” Jemma jokes. Fitz knows she’s kidding, but he’s honestly not sure how he did, either. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out what he’s been thinking for months. 

“Why don’t we move in together?” 

“What?!” Jemma shrieks. The knife slips from her hand and slices through the skin on her index finger. “Shit!” 

Fitz’s heart stops. He immediately begins to feel clammy and a horrifically familiar hunger rises up in him. It’s a strange combination of that hunger and his fear of hurting Jemma that causes him to feel like he might vomit. He pushes himself away from the breakfast bar and stumbles back into the living room, covering his mouth and nose with a trembling hand. 

Jemma, meanwhile, is searching frantically for a towel. When she finds one, she presses it against her bleeding finger and takes a few gasping breaths. 

“Fitz?” she asks quietly, when she finally looks up and finds him as far away from her as he could possibly be. 

He knows what he must look like, and thank god she can’t see his mouth. It’s been so long since the fangs made an appearance, and it hurts like hell. His pupils are blown wide and he shakes all over in his efforts to contain himself. 

But then he looks at her, really looks at her, even if this means the end of everything because he never should have put her in this position to begin with—and he notices that her own pupils are wide as well. 

“Jemma?” he asks, sound muffled against his hand. 

“Put your hand down,” she demands softly. He shakes his head fervently, tears burning in his eyes because this is over, now, his blissful domesticity with Jemma. It’s over and he can’t take it, it’s going to tear him apart and he knows it, he knew it as soon as he saw her in the bar. 

“Please, Fitz.” 

Her voice is so soft and trusting that he can’t help but do as she asks. He screws his eyes shut as tightly as he can, not wanting to see the expression on her face when she knows what he is. 

“You got sick,” she whispers. “In the Contagion.” 

Fitz shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. It was—it was after. When I came to America and started going to school.” 

“It was a different strain,” Jemma continues. “I—I know all about it, Fitz.” 

She doesn’t sound angry, or even sad. She sounds like she’s in awe, and he has to open his eyes to look at her so that he can tell the difference. As soon as he does, she smiles at him—revealing some small fangs of her own. 

“What?” he gasps. “How—you—you’re a doctor—“ 

Jemma nods quickly. “I am. I’ve—I’ve been working on an antiserum. It’s not completely effective yet but I don’t react as strongly to blood as I did before. That’s how I can control it.” 

“Can you please—um, bandage yourself up?” he asks tightly. She jumps a little and nods, racing toward the bathroom. She emerges a few minutes later, finding him sitting on the couch with his face in his hands. 

She sits down beside him, her pupils back to normal size and her fangs gone once again. He feels his own begin to retract and hisses at the sensation. Jemma wraps her arms around his shoulders and leans her head into his neck. 

“I guess neither of us has been very honest with each other,” Jemma mumbles. He nods, resting his cheek against her hair. 

“I was too afraid.” 

“Me too,” Jemma sighs. “But Fitz, now I can help you. I can give you the antiserum, and once I get it right, we can—we can be normal.” 

“Do you really think we ever can be?” 

“Yes!” Jemma says vehemently, pulling away to look at him. “Fitz, we’ve both managed to keep it under control for this long. Whatever happened to us, it wasn’t as severe as the European Contagion, or maybe we had some sort of baseline immunity from this strain. Regardless, we can fix this.” 

He places his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly. “Together.” 

She grins at him, fangless and human. He smiles back, surging forward to kiss her. 

“Does anyone else know? About you?” Fitz asks. She nods. 

“Bobbi. We were living together at school when I first got sick, and she’s a medical researcher, so we worked on the antiserum together in the labs.” 

“That probably wasn’t legal,” Fitz grins. “Jemma Simmons, you were always such a big fan of rules!” 

“I still am!” she squeaks defensively. “There were just certain extenuating circumstances that required a bit of bending of the rules, that’s all.” 

Fitz smiles at her and lets out a breath of relief as she snuggles against his side. “So now that you have the serum—what happens to you?” 

“Nothing much,” Jemma hums. “It seems like I only react if others around me are reacting. I draw blood at work all the time with no issues.” 

“But it still happens sometimes, then?” 

“Well you just saw it,” she teases. “It’s very slight. It’s been ages since I had a reaction to blood at all, and even when I do it’s mostly just the physical characteristics, like the clammy feeling. I don’t get that hungry feeling anymore. I don’t know if you notice how small my fangs are.” 

“Rather teeny,” he observes. She giggles and nuzzles against his neck. 

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me, y’know.” 

He pulls her closer and tighter when she whispers against him. “Good. Because I wouldn’t.” 

She squeezes him and gives him a moment to absorb everything that’s just happened. 

“Jemma, I—I did some really bad things after I first got sick, and—“ 

“Shh,” she soothes. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Fitz. If it hadn’t been for Bobbi…I can’t imagine what I would have had to do. I understand, okay? I’m going to protect you.” 

“I meant it,” he says after a beat of silence. “Earlier, before all of this mess.” 

“You want to move in together?” 

“Well…yeah. I do. We basically live here anyway.” 

“I just signed my lease six months ago,” Jemma groans. 

“So you break the lease,” he reasons. “I live closer to the hospital anyway.” 

She licks her lips and nods. “Okay.” 

Her resolved expression slowly morphs into a wide smile. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.” 

“We’re moving in together.” He’s sure his grin is practically maniacal at this point, but all of his secrets are out in the open. He should have known that, out of everyone on Earth, Jemma would have some sort of solution to all of this. 

“We are.” 

They wind up on the living room floor for nearly an hour, celebrating the next step in their relationship. The bandage on Jemma’s finger, as well as the omelets they had intended to make, become long forgotten. 

*** 

[Two Weeks Later] 

He’d noticed the effects of Bobbi and Jemma’s serum almost immediately. He’d certainly noticed the effect that calling it a ‘vaccine’ had on both of them. 

He still hadn’t really put it to the test, though. Jemma had offered to prick her finger to see how he reacted, but the idea made him uncomfortable. He’d managed to avoid open wounds for a very, very long time, and he’d spent years controlling and pushing down on what he referred to internally as ‘that gross hunger.’ 

It had only taken a week to move Jemma’s belongings into his place, and only another week until her lovely one bedroom had a new tenant who had been very grateful to keep most of the furniture. The days since had been absolute bliss for Fitz, and, he suspected, for Jemma as well. Waking up to her crawling in to bed beside him after a long shift at the hospital, or coming home to her and Skye chatting on the couch with a rom com playing in the background or even getting woken up by her in the middle of the night when her feet were cold…all of it was heaven to him. 

He didn’t get to see her as often as he’d like, given her strange schedule and her recent extended hours working with Bobbi in her lab. The realization that Fitz was like her had pushed her desire to find a true cure to an admirable, if not somewhat insane, new height. 

He was so trapped in his euphoric musings as he sprawled out on the couch with a Bond movie on that he almost misses his ringing phone entirely. It’s from an unfamiliar number within the areacode, so he answers it cautiously. It couldn’t possibly be a telemarketer at 10:30 p.m. Even they stop at some point. 

“Hello?” 

“Fitz?” a panicked and familiar female voice asks. 

“Bobbi? Is everything okay?” 

“No,” she huffs out. She sounds like she may be near tears. “It’s Jemma.” 

He sits up so fast his head spins. “What do you mean? Is she okay?” 

“She didn’t listen to me, she tested it on herself even though I told her it wasn’t ready, and—“ 

“Are you at the lab?” 

“Yeah. I have her mostly stable now but…” 

“I’ll be right there.” 

He throws on a hoodie and shoves his feet into a pair of trainers, bolting for the elevator. He presses the button and only waits for three seconds before his adrenaline overtakes him and he opts for the stairs instead. 

The streets of New York are nearly as crowded at 10:30 at night as they are in the afternoon, and he pushes through groups of people with no regard for anything except getting to Jemma as quickly as possible. 

Bobbi is pacing outside when he arrives and he snaps at her for leaving Jemma unattended. 

“I forgot that you have afterhours access to a medical research facility all on your own,” Bobbi snaps back. He apologizes under his breath and follows her to the lab where Jemma lays on a small cot, pale and unmoving. 

He immediately falls to his knees next to her, running his hand over her hair. 

“What the hell did she do?” 

“It wasn’t ready to be tested,” Bobbi informs him, voice full of regret. “She did it before I even got here. I’m so sorry, Fitz, I—“ 

“It’s okay,” he tells her, not taking his eyes off of his girlfriend. “There’s no stopping her once she gets her mind set.” 

Bobbi nods silently and takes a seat nearby. “The balance of chemicals was off. I won’t try to go into all the details, but she essentially poisoned herself. She was so sure that a small addition of a poisonous component would kill the dormant virus that’s in both of your blood, but it was too much.” 

“So she’s—she’s poisoned?” he whispers. Bobbi nods and squeezes his shoulder. 

“She’s going to be okay, though. I gave her a counteracting chemical solution, and she’s hooked up to a saline IV to help push it out of her.” 

It doesn’t take too long for Jemma to wake up. When her eyes flutter open, she instantly looks sheepish. 

“I’m—“ 

“—incredibly stupid?” Bobbi finishes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again, Jemma.” 

“You can’t be reckless,” Fitz agrees, voice stern. “We’re both doing fine, Jemma. There’s no need to rush this. Don’t get sloppy. You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

“I just want to fix it,” she whimpers, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’t want you to be afraid anymore.” 

She’s so genuine about it, so truly concerned for the way he’s had to live his life, alone with this disease, and it breaks his heart. He quickly presses his lips to her forehead. 

“I’m okay, love. I promise. But I don’t be if something happens to you. I couldn’t live if you didn’t.” 

“I feel the same way,” she whispers. “You’re my best friend in the world.” 

Bobbi moves away, giving them some more space, and he kisses her softly. 

“You’re mine, too. So don’t make me scared to death again, okay?” 

“Okay,” she murmurs, grabbing his hand. “I promise to be more careful.” 

It’s a while longer before she’s ready to go back home, and she falls into a fitful sleep as soon as they lay down in their bed. He watches her for a while, unwilling to shut his eyes against the picture of her alive and breathing, but eventually, his exhaustion overtakes him, too. 

*** 

[Three Months Later] 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Bobbi asks cautiously, holding a syringe near Jemma’s arm. Jemma nods, face set in determination as Fitz paces behind her blonde friend. 

“We have it. I just…I know it.” 

“Please let me do it,” Fitz pleads weakly, stilling just long enough to look at her desperately. “What if—what if it hurts you?” 

“It won’t,” Jemma says certainly. “This is why I didn’t even want you here, Fitz.” 

He scoffs, throwing his hands up. “We know how that went last time, Jemma.” 

“It was one time!” 

“One time that you poisoned yourself! That is one time too many!” 

Rolling her eyes, Bobbi quickly injects Jemma with the liquid, grimacing at Jemma’s hiss of pain. 

“Sorry. I figured I should just put us all out of our misery.” 

Jemma smiles gratefully. “Yes, thank you.” 

Fitz, on the other hand, is not pleased. “Bobbi! What the hell?” 

“Calm down. We have everything ready for every possible adverse reaction. Jemma, how are you feeling?” 

Her face screws up in concentration. “A little bit…off. But only slightly. It’s almost as though something is seeping out of me? I’m—clammy. Like when the hunger comes, but in a different way.” 

“That may be the virus being pulled from your cells,” Bobbi says excitedly. “Jemma, I think we did it.” 

Jemma nods wildly, beaming even as her skin becomes shinier with sweat. “It feels like sweating out a fever, now.” 

“It looks like one,” Bobbi observes, nose wrinkling. Jemma laughs and kicks weakly at her friend. 

An hour passes by, with Fitz anxiously pacing and Bobbi writing down observations of Jemma’s progress. 

“Alright, Fitz, you’ve gotta go. We’re gonna test it.” 

“I can control myself!” he yelps. 

Bobbi just points to the door, unconvinced by his argument. He sighs heavily, kisses Jemma quickly, and slides the glass door shut behind him. He immediately resumes his pacing and Bobbi shouts at him. 

“Would you cut it out! You’re making us all nervous!” 

Bobbi reaches beside her, using a small knife to cut a little laceration onto her own finger. She holds it up toward Jemma, expecting to find Jemma’s pupils dialated and her little fangs to make their appearance. 

Jemma swallows, hard, and stares directly at the bead of blood building on Bobbi’s finger. It begins to drip down her finger, but Bobbi remains calm, watches Jemma’s physical reactions.

“It worked,” Jemma breathes, awestruck. “Holy shit, Bobbi, it worked!” 

She stands, twirling quickly and bouncing on her toes. “Oh my God!” 

Bobbi laughs, moving to the sink to rinse her finger off and bandage it. 

“Alright, we’re clear. Let your puppy into the room.” 

Jemma laughs and slides open the door, immediately sweeping Fitz into her arms. “We did it!” 

They go through the motions with Fitz, although he reacts more strongly. His temperature rises faster and he feels weak and dizzy for nearly an hour. Jemma frets and panics about the lack of consistent trials while Bobbi monitors his every bodily function. 

Eventually, though, he evens out. He begins to feel normal again, and Jemma frets as Bobbi pulls out the small knife again. 

“Maybe I should do it, just in case,” Jemma says, wringing her hands. 

“You two are adorable together,” Bobbi says, “but also, you’re kind of annoying. We’ll both be fine.” 

Fitz nods encouragingly and Jemma sighs, stepping back to allow Bobbi to test it. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose as Bobbi’s blood appears, and then realizes that the smell of it hasn’t overcome him. In fact, he can’t smell it at all. There’s no nauseous hunger or flushing of his skin, and his mouth remains completely devoid of pain or fangs. 

“Bloody hell. It—it worked for me, too.” 

Jemma throws herself at him, knocking him backward against the cot. “We did it. We did it.” 

She peppers his face in kisses all over and Bobbi moves to bandage her second finger. “Hey! I also was here.” 

“You were more than just here,” Jemma beams. “You’re brilliant. We couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Now I just have to show this to my supervisors. Although it’s not like dormant vampires are going to be willing to come forward out of the woodwork voluntarily. It’ll take time.” 

Jemma and Fitz are hardly listening, though. They’re entirely too wrapped up in staring at each other and sharing kisses and soft touches. Bobbi grins to herself, pulling out her phone to call her husband. 

“Lance? Hey. Sorry, it was a late night at the lab. I’ll be home in a bit. Do you want me to swing by the store and grab some beers on the way?” 

She gathers her things and leaves with a silent salute to the two former vampires, currently intent on snuggling together as close as they possibly can. 

“I never thought this could happen,” Fitz murmurs, voice full of wonder. 

“Me either. We literally cured vampirism.” 

“No, not that. Well, okay, that, too. I just meant—me and you. Here. The way that we are.” 

Jemma props herself up with her elbow, staring down at him. “I think part of me always knew. You were too deep in my bones, even back then.” 

He drags her down for a kiss. They don’t leave the lab for a very long time, and afterward, Fitz sincerely hopes that the security cameras are still switched off.


End file.
